


The Dressing Room

by cheyennesunrise



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Implied Smut, M/M, Missing Scene, S03e13 4C
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheyennesunrise/pseuds/cheyennesunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 4C. Finch takes Reese to the tailor, but they don't get much work done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dressing Room

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not much of a smut writer, so some of it is implied.
> 
> As always, thank you for your support and insight, TimelessDreamer2!

“I need to get fitted for a new suit.”

Harold paused for a moment. His mouth hung open in shock, but he quickly composed himself. His heart was pounding and his stomach was turning in giddy somersaults.

_“Mr. Reese is back. John is back. Oh my God…”_

John smiled warmly at Harold and held his gaze for a moment. His eyes conveyed the wordless affirmation that Harold had been waiting to hear for months:

_“Yes, Harold, I’m coming home.”_

“I know of a wonderful atelier named Gianni,” Harold said, and he could hear himself beginning to ramble about art and wine and architecture. His body shook with relief and joy and the realization that John was _here_ , John was back, and John was never going to leave him.

“Let’s go then, Finch,” John smiled, and Harold felt his heart skip a beat.

They finished their tea and espresso and took a few minutes to enjoy the Roman sunshine that seemed to restore joy and vigor back to the world, and to their souls.

John stood up first, and he waited respectfully behind Harold’s chair. He offered his arm to Harold, and the older man obliged.

Harold linked his arm through John’s, and they strolled casually along the glittering Tiber, or Il Tevere,  Harold noted, dazzling John with his flawless Italian, or perhaps with the longing in his eyes.

“We’re almost there, John,” Harold breathed, and John bit his lip. It was all that he could do to stop the overwhelming desire to kiss Harold, to hold him and breathe him in and never, ever let him go.

They walked for a few more minutes until they reached the tailor’s shop, and it was remarkably quaint and exclusive, just like all of Harold’s favorite stores.

John’s arm was around Harold’s shoulders now, and he gently guided him across the threshold and into the shop.

“ _Benvenuti_!” the owner said brightly. “It’s been a while, Signor Wren!”

He paused for a moment and gave John a once-over.

“Who’s your friend, eh?”

Harold smiled bashfully and patted John on the back.

“This is John. He needs a new suit, Gianni, maybe something in navy?”

Gianni smiled widely and pulled the tape measurer from his neck.

“I’ll take his measurements in a little bit. Why don’t you look around the store for a while?” Gianni suggested.

Harold looked up at John and was rewarded with a grin and a quick nod.

“Sure, Gianni. We’d love to.”

After he watched Gianni disappear into the back office, Harold motioned for John to follow him.

“The newest suits are over here, Mr. Reese,” he said softly.

John’s eyes were fixed on something in the distance, and his mouth was set in a firm line. Harold raised an eyebrow at the unreadable expression on John’s face. Mr.Reese, what are you looking at?” Harold’s voice trailed off when he determined what had caught John’s interest: the dressing rooms.

“What do you say, Harold?”John asked playfully. Harold started to protest, but the desire on his face betrayed him.

“I’m sure Gianni won’t mind,” he answered breathlessly.

They walked past the sunlit bay windows and crossed into the cool, dark corner of the shop. It was separated by a heavy, opaque curtain, and it was illuminated by a row of tiny spotlights.

There was a bench in one corner, and one wall was covered with floor-length mirrors that were just long enough to capture John’s full height.

Harold was suddenly apprehensive. “John, I’m not sure if-,” he paused, and threw a worried glance at the curtain.

“It’ll be fine, Harold,” John drawled, and his voice dropped into a honeyed lower register that shot through Harold like a jolt of electricity.

“Very well, Mr. Reese,” he said tersely, and in an instant, his hands were on John’s shoulders, peeling away the jacket, unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath.

John ran his hand through Harold’s hair and released a shuddering breath as he clutched at the smaller man’s face, cupping his chin, pressing kisses to his temple.

John loosened Harold’s tie and pulled off the exquisite cream-colored plaid jacket. It fell to the ground with all the airiness and vibrancy of an autumn leaf, and the shirt was next.

“God, _Harold_ ,” John groaned. He felt his face flush with embarrassment; he hadn’t been touched in a long time, but it felt good, it felt fucking good.

Harold was breathing hard too, and he pulled John’s head down to meet his. He crushed his lips against John’s and felt his body shake with desperation and abandon, and he choked back a sob.

“John,” he murmured, pausing to lick his dry lips. “Don’t leave me.”

John’s eyes widened, and he felt them grow moist with unshed tears.

“I won’t,” he choked, and the words were a promise, a fragile prayer on the lips of a broken man.

Harold looked up at John and his heart broke a little at the earnestness in the other man’s eyes. He gave a quick, grateful nod, and then he pressed his hungry, shaking hands against John’s shoulders, pinning him against the wall.

John’s shirt was half-open and his chest was glistening with sweat. Harold’s breath caught for a moment, and then he exhaled slowly and wrapped his arms around John.

It was an oddly tender moment amidst the frenetic kisses and touch-starved grasping, but it was heavy, and _real_ , and it made Harold’s heart skip again.

John was leaning over him now, hands firmly resting on his ass, and Harold was frozen, enraptured.

He felt the evidence of John’s desire against his leg, and he bit back a groan.

“John, should we- Here?” he panted.

John nodded quickly, and he traced his hands across Harold’s groin in a slow, tantalizing motion.

“It’s up to you, Harold,” he said hoarsely, letting his lips brush against Harold’s ear.

“ _John_ ,” he protested, and the dark-haired man grinned at his tone.

“Gianni’s going to be back any moment, Harold,” he said lightly.

“I do have an apartment overlooking the Tiber,” Harold said quietly, and John raised an eyebrow.

“The Tiber, huh? What did you call it before?”

“ _Il Tevere_ ,” Finch purred, and John shivered in his arms.

“I have plenty more where that came from, Mr. Reese,” Harold whispered, and he leaned his head against John’s shoulder so that his mouth was flush with the taller man’s ear.

“ _Signor_ Reese.

A smile curled over Harold’s lips as he heard John’s breath quicken.

He pressed a kiss to John’s neck and felt his heartbeat speed up too, wild and hungry beneath the sweat-slick skin.

“We can always make an appointment with Gianni tomorrow,” John said breathlessly, and Harold concurred wordlessly.

They quickly gathered their clothes and straightened their jackets. Harold gave John’s coat one final tug before they went back the hotel, leaving a confused Gianni in their wake.

“See you tomorrow!” Harold called, and his voice was pinched and high, quite unlike his usual measured tone.

Gianni gave him a knowing smile and lifted his hand in a quick wave.

                                                                                                                                       *****

The next morning, Harold awoke to the sound of John’s even breathing and steady heartbeat. The younger man’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him fast, and Harold heard the answer to his question once more:

“ _I’ll never leave you. Never, ever again_.”

 


End file.
